Полная версия стихов АсадоваКак мно

Полная версия стихов Асадова

Как много тех, с кем можно лечь в постель,
Как мало тех, с кем хочется проснуться…
И утром, расставаясь улыбнуться,
И помахать рукой, и улыбнуться,
И целый день, волнуясь, ждать вестей.

Как много тех, с кем можно просто жить,
Пить утром кофе, говорить и спорить…
С кем можно ездить отдыхать на море,
И, как положено – и в радости, и в горе
Быть рядом… Но при этом не любить…

Как мало тех, с кем хочется мечтать!
Смотреть, как облака роятся в небе,
Писать слова любви на первом снеге,
И думать лишь об этом человеке…
И счастья большего не знать и не желать.

Как мало тех, с кем можно помолчать,
Кто понимает с полуслова, с полувзгляда,
Кому не жалко год за годом отдавать,
И за кого ты сможешь, как награду,
Любую боль, любую казнь принять…

Вот так и вьётся эта канитель -
Легко встречаются, без боли расстаются…
Все потому, что много тех, с кем можно лечь в постель.
Все потому, что мало тех, с кем хочется проснуться.

Как много тех, с кем можно лечь в постель…
Как мало тех, с кем хочется проснуться…
И жизнь плетёт нас, словно канитель…
Сдвигая, будто при гадании на блюдце.

Мы мечемся: – работа… быт… дела…
Кто хочет слышать - всё же должен слушать…
А на бегу - заметишь лишь тела…
Остановитесь… чтоб увидеть душу.

Мы выбираем сердцем – по уму…
Порой боимся на улыбку - улыбнуться,
Но душу открываем лишь тому,
С которым и захочется проснуться.

Как много тех, с кем можно говорить.
Как мало тех, с кем трепетно молчание.
Когда надежды тоненькая нить
Меж нами, как простое понимание.

Как много тех, с кем можно горевать,
Вопросами подогревать сомнения.
Как мало тех, с кем можно узнавать
Себя, как нашей жизни отражение.

Как много тех, с кем лучше бы молчать,
Кому не проболтаться бы в печали.
Как мало тех, кому мы доверять
Могли бы то, что от себя скрывали.

С кем силы мы душевные найдем,
Кому душой и сердцем слепо верим.
Кого мы непременно позовем,
Когда беда откроет наши двери.

Как мало их, с кем можно – не мудря.
С кем мы печаль и радость пригубили.
Возможно, только им благодаря
Мы этот мир изменчивый любили.

Результаты (английский) 1:

Full version: poemsHow many of those with whom you can go to bed,How little those who want to wake up.And in the morning, parting smileAnd wave his hand and smile,And all day, excited, waiting for news.How many of those with whom you can just liveDrink coffee in the morning, talk and argue.With whom you can ride rest on the sea,And, as it should be-and in joy and in sorrowBe near ... But not love.How little those who want to dream!Watch as clouds swarming in the sky,Write the word love on the first snow,And to think only about this person ...And happiness more do not know and do not wish for.How few are those who keep silent,Who understands perfectly, with a glance,Who do not mind to give year after year,And for whom you will be able, as a reward,Any pain, any penalty to take.So Mills this rigmarole-Easily occur without pain part ...That's because many of those with whom you can go to bed.That's because few of those with whom I want to wake up.How many of those with whom you can go to bed.How little those who want to wake up.And life pletët us, like GIMP.Shifting, though when making prognostications on a saucer.We mečemsâ:-work ... Gen. .. the case ...Who wants to hear-all must listen ...While on the run-catch only the body.Stop ... to see the soul.We choose heart-on the mind.Sometimes we are afraid to smile-smileBut the soul open onlyWith that and want to wake up.How many of those with whom you can talk.How little those who reverently silent.When hope is thin threadBetween us, as a simple understanding.How many of those with whom you can grieve,Warm up questions of doubt.How few are those with whom you can learnHimself as our life.How many of those with whom it is better to remain silentWho would spill the beans in sadness.How little those we trustCould that have been hiding from yourself.With whom we find spiritual forcesHeart and soul who blindly believe.Whom we will call,When the trouble to open our doors.How little they with whom you can-not mudrea.With whom we sorrow and joy prigubili.Perhaps only thanks to themWe have this world of changeable loved.

Результаты (английский) 2:

The full version of poetry Asadov

How many of those with whom you can go to bed,
how little those who want to wake up ...
And in the morning, parting smile,
and waved and smiled,
And the whole day, worrying, waiting for news.

How many of those with whom you can just live,
drink coffee in the morning, talking and arguing ...
who can go to rest at sea,
and, as expected - and in joy and in sorrow
be there ... But it is not love ...

How little those who want dream!
Watch as the clouds swarming in the sky,
to write the word love on the first snow,
and think only about that person ...
and happiness more do not know and do not wish to.

How few of those with whom you can be quiet,
who understands perfectly, poluvzglyada,
who does not feel sorry for year after year, to give,
and for whom you will be able, as a reward,
any pain, any penalty to take ...

Here and winds this rigmarole -
is easy to meet, without pain to leave ...
this is because many of those with whom you can go to bed.
This is because a few of those with whom you want to wake up.

How many of those with whom you can go to bed ...
How little those who want to wake up ...
And life weaves us like gimp ...
Shifting, if at guessing saucer.

We rush: - work ... life ... things ...
Who wants to hear - still have to listen to ...
And on the run - note only the body ...
Stay ... to see the soul.

We choose the heart - in the mind ...
Sometimes we are afraid to smile - a smile,
but the soul open only to those
with whom want to wake up.

How many of those with whom you can talk.
How little those who reverently silent.
When hope thin thread
Between us, as a simple understanding.

How many of those with whom you can grieve,
Questions of heated doubt .
How few of those with whom you can recognize
himself as our life reflection.

How many of those with whom it would be better to remain silent,
who does not like to spill the beans to the press.
as a few of those we trust
Could that by itself concealed.

with someone forces us mental find,
to the heart and soul blindly believe in.
who do we certainly will invite,
when trouble will open our doors.

As a few of them with whom you can -. not wise
who we sadness and joy sip.
Perhaps only their thanks to
we the volatile world loved.

Результаты (английский) 3:

the full version of асадоваhow many people can lie down in bed.how little those who want to wake up...and in the morning, parting smileand wave and smileand all day, worried, waiting for news.how many people can live a simple lifedrink coffee, talk and argue.who can go to rest on the seaand properly - and in joy and in sorrowbe here... but it isn"t love.how much people want to dream.watch the clouds bear in heavenwrite the words of love in the snow.and think about this man...and happiness more don"t know and don"t want to.how few people can be quietwho understands completely, with полувзгляда,who"s not year after year to giveand what you can do as a reward.any pain, any punishment to...so this thing is snakingeasily meet, pain without breaking up.because a lot of people can lie down in bed.because few people like to wake up.how many people can lie down in bed.how little those who want to wake up...and life saying us like a thing...сдвигая like in divination in the dish.we"re scrambling: is the work to be... doing...who wants to hear - it"s supposed to listen to...and run only to notice the body.stop... to see your soul.we choose the heart is on the right.sometimes afraid to smile - smilebut the soul open towith whom you want to wake up.how many people can say.how little those who keep silent.when a thin thread of hopebetween us, like a simple understanding.how many people can grievethe heat of doubt.how little anyone can learnlike our life reflected.how many of those who would rather keep silentdon"t ever let anyone in distress.how little those who we trustcould what you were hiding.what force we"re soul findwho is the heart and soul of blindly believe.what we will callwhen we open our doors.how small, man is not said.what we пригубили sorrow and joy.maybe they just thankswe loved this world changing.